


Things Fall Together

by BelowBedlam



Series: Verity [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowBedlam/pseuds/BelowBedlam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meme drabbles and small things in the run of Kimani and Iron Bull.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Quite a White Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an argument, Kimani decides to make right.

 

(Written for a Domesticity meme by [Flaming-knickerweasels](http://flaming-knickerweasels.tumblr.com/post/120970549832/30-day-otp-domesticity-challenge-masterlist) on tumblr.)

* * *

 

Kimani’s been caught so naturally she freezes, eyes wide as he comes into the mirror’s view. It is an Iron Bull-sized mirror, framed in bone and embedded with gold: a gift from Josephine.

What she wears is meant to be a gift from her, an apology for refusing his apology; she lets him sulk at her for a month before feeling guilty.

“Hey.” He says flatly, hands on his hips as kicks the door shut behind him. She watches him swagger over to stand behind her in the mirror. He’s got on the expert blank face, but his shoulders are too loose, too easy. Amused. Kimani nods up at his reflection.

“Hey.”

They both look at what she’s wearing: one very fine dress-shirt rendered entirely of black silk. The buttons lining its front, too, are black and lacquered so they shine, and the sleeves end in cuffs embroidered in gold leaves. The shirt itself is enormous; its collar sags around her shoulders and the hem dusts her knees and calves in different places. Her arms are…somewhere inside the sleeves.

Kimani is positively drowned in all the material, which is excellent: It’ll fit him just fine. That was all she sought to confirm when she pulled it from its wrappings and tossed her own blouse on his bed. The messenger was meant to bring it to her quarters, but he was barely a boy and new, proud of his first duty to the Inquisitor. Kimani hadn’t the heart to break his, so she’d come here herself to retrieve it.

But then she thought: wouldn’t it be even better if it just _appeared_ for him? So she’d check to make sure it’s as luxurious as she’d paid for and set it on his bed to greet him. A small thing. A peace offering.

 _He_ is supposed to be helping construction on one of the southern walls until noon and by her count, it isn’t yet half-past ten.

Bull regards her a moment, then lifts her arms so they’re out to either side, nodding as he rubs the fabric between his fingers. It is buttery smooth sliding over her skin, cool and light and elegant even in its stitching. Kimani had the tailor embroider off-black vines along the seams and he trails them lightly.

“Pretty.” He murmurs, then grips her at the waist, cinching the shirt and turning her from side to side. She has to purse her lips to keep from snorting. “Could work with a belt.” Then he lifts the hem on either side until they see her thighs. “A bit shorter would do.”

“Hilarious.” She tries to break free of him but he holds her tight, fingers pressing rhythmically into her stomach

“But it’s not yours. Guess how I know?” She rolls her eyes.

“Ben-Hassrath.” A solemn nod.

 “These are the _exact_ things we train for, so I’m just going to guess that this…sumptuous attire is for me. Just a hunch. Ah,” He feigns a grimace when she elbows him in the stomach. “The hunch is sensitive.” Now he lets his stupid grin split his face. “ _I’ll fuck you up, then kick you out, Bull._ Remember that? I thought we were there again, had me fooled. Trying to out-manipulate me?” Kimani lets her head drop, blushing and defeated, and Bull rocks her as he sways, laughing.

“Are you done?” She hides her smile when he grumbles but lets her go, sliding the shirt from her shoulders and reaching behind him to grab her blouse for her. She’s sad to watch it go, even as Bull shrugs his great form into it so it takes its proper, more appealing shape. The black gives him more color in contrast; she’d been afraid of it making him paler, but it only accentuates how strange of a gray he is. Like that damn eye; he’s not even looking at his reflection, gaze lingering on her even after she’s done buttoning her blouse.

“Looks good,” he says when he finally takes himself in, preening. “Damn, I’m handsome. Don’t know where I’d wear it, though do I really need a place other than right here in this mirror?” He rolls his shoulders at himself. “Nah. They wouldn’t know what to do with me. Hell, they already don’t.”

“Glad you like it,” she fails at hiding her pleasure with nonchalance as she turns to leave, but he stills her with a hand against her neck. His thumb strokes slow lines along her nape, and they sigh together.

“Thank you, Kimani.” It’s barely above a whisper, and far too much for her. She pulls his hand from her neck and gives it a quick squeeze before truly heading towards the door.

“You can wear it to one of the Orlesian soirees you’re so popular at.” The door’s nearly closed behind her when she hears him speak again.

“Only if you come with me.”


	2. Kiss the Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimani tries to tease the Iron Bull.  
> Lol, okay girl.

Another for the Domesticity [meme](http://flaming-knickerweasels.tumblr.com/post/120970549832/30-day-otp-domesticity-challenge-masterlist) made by  [flaming-knickerweasels](http://flaming-knickerweasels.tumblr.com/post/120970549832/30-day-otp-domesticity-challenge-masterlist) on tumblr.

 

* * *

 

 

He thinks he’s clever with his stupid apron, that shit-eating grin pulling right up to his horns. Cassandra and Sera bite back snorts all through supper, complimenting Bull’s roasted nug with tight, high voices. They “choke” on one too many bites as Bull eyes her, laughing in pieces behind their hands. And he loves it.

So when Kimani says yes, of course the Inquisitor will kiss the cook as an honor, he does as she says and sits obediently. But his grin slowly melts away as she kisses her own hand and smacks him lightly on the forehead with it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He’s incredulous, grabbing her innocently by the back of one knee and the opposite elbow, drawing her between his massive legs. “Where’s the honor in that?”

“Right weak, that.” Sera adds. Cassandra looks between them all with ill-concealed interest, but keeps quiet and Kimani sighs. Thankfully she has her own ideas so she proceeds to do as he asks, and honor him.

Once, on the tip of the nose. In return he whines so sadly, so _small_ , that she nearly refuses to believe it comes from this behemoth.

Once again, and for a moment longer further up on his crooked bridge, broken far too many times and healed bent. Bull pulls a long face. Kimani pats his jaw.

“What is it, The Iron Bull?” She asks sweetly, giving him her best doe-eyes. He only glowers.

“Nothing.” The response is so sullen, so defeated, she fights and fails against the devious giggle that bubbles in her throat.

“Do you not feel honored? Oh, do you want more?” He rolls his eye at her.

“Obviously.” Kimani thinks she’s done him more than due justice: the apron says to kiss the cook and she has done so, three times now as she presses another just below his eye-patch. Four, when she pecks the other cheek.

He only grumbles and curses in Qunlat, dissatisfied. So she reaches up and kisses him on the very top of his gnarled head, right between the horns to really do him in.

Behind them, Sera’s lost the war against her own cackling and rolls in the grass at Cassandra’s feet. The Seeker herself is red-faced, poking at the fire with one hand, the thumb of the other holding place in her latest read. Kimani is more than certain her friend is having deja-vu from one of her literary romps.

“You aren’t used to being denied, hmm?” She coos at Bull, kissing his nose again, this time for herself; it’s the smoothest part of his face, surprisingly. “You don’t like it. Eh eh eh.” She taps his eyebrow with each  _eh_. “But you like me.” She lifts his chin and he defiantly looks anywhere but her face as she brings their mouths close, lingering, her eyes intent on his lips as he licks them. Then she pulls away.“So you must wait.” And steps out of his hold.

She expects–wants–another wine, a longer face. But there’s that damned grin again. Kimani blinks.

And he tilts his head back, and  _laughs._

“Sera, what’s your count on my inquisi-kisses?” He calls to the still-cackling elf, who raises her fingers before answering.

“Six good ones!” She says between breaths.

“ _Six good ones_.” He trains his eye on Kimani. “And some sexy, bossy banter to boot. That’s my girl! I’d say it’s a good day.” She’s frozen, eyes fluttering shut as she realizes how well she’s just been played.

“I was not just Ben-Hassrath’d.” Kimani hides her face in her hands. “You did not just Ben-Hassrath me.”

“One, Ben-Hassrath is a noun and not a verb. And two,” She feels his heat as he steps closer to whisper to her, “That was just the regular ole’ one-two. Men who’ve never  _heard_  of the Qun do that one.” His chuckle tickles her ear. “Your lips are very soft, Boss. And sweet-smelling, like the rest of you.”

“Good night!” She shoves him away, face hot as she stomps into her tent to lay prone with her hands over her eyes.  _I’m an idiot._

“Don’t be shamed, Inquisitor.” Cassandra comes in not long after, her book rustling as she folds down her most recent page. “He was very convincing, I’ll give him that. Who could have known? And to be honest, I’ve read worse.”

Regardless, Kimani practically burns with embarrassment until the laughter subsides. 

Until  _sunrise_.


	3. How to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a line prompt meme on tumblr.  
> Line: "Please, don't go."

“Have you ever thought about…if we ever…”

“Fucked? I think about it at least once a day. About how I’d… except it wouldn’t be fucking, if we did it. It’d be something else. Look at us, right now.” Bull says when Kimani opens her mouth to protest. “Cuddling. Talking about our days and our feelings. Your hand on my jaw, driving me nuts. You know it does,” he cuts her off again, “that’s why you do it.”

“That’s why I do it,” she admits.

“And you better keep doing it. I’ve never had a friend I wanted to fuck so badly.”

“Then why don’t you? I’ve seen you seduce women, I wouldn’t be half as difficult.”

“Look at you, laying here calmly asking me why I don’t fuck you. Bringing me into your bed just to sleep. But you’re always looking at me like you need something, getting brave and caressing my face and asking weird questions. I figure you don’t want me that close yet. And I’m not supposed to want to fuck my friends.”

“You’ve never said why.”

“Because I’m not trained for ‘something else’.”

“But you want to with me.” He’d never call the look in her eyes innocent; she’s a tragedy and a half past it. It’s demanding. Always wanting the truth, regardless of if she wanted it.

“Yeah.”

“Spirits, Big’un.” Her lazy smile is nearly as agonizing as her hand dragging slowly across his jaw.

“I fucking love when you call me that.” He mutters.

“Listen, there are a thousand things I think about you. Exactly one thousand. But I’ll say one, and that’s that I love you. That’s it, really.” She shrugs when he looks down at her. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here with me. I hope you stay for a while. Not in the bed, because the sun’s coming out and we have to go, but here. At my side. Hmm.” She looks away, gauging the sun, and starts to roll away from him. But Bull’s got this full feeling his chest, pressing so he can’t feel his own damn heartbeat, climbing up his throat as heavy and thick as smoke. She gets to the other side of the bed—really it’s too big for her, it’s unfair—before he clears his throat, stretching his arm as far as it’ll go, his longest finger brushing the flesh of her hip. It’s enough; she turns questioning eyes on him.

“Not yet.” He can barely hear himself, didn’t know he could whisper like that.

“Don’t you see the sky-“

“I don’t see shit.” She blinks at him, frowns reaches her hand so his fingers don’t have to strain. Threads them together. He can’t say it, please, don’t go, because he’s got it in his head that it’d be the same as saying I love you, too. He’s got it in his head that anything else wouldn’t be.

“Not. Yet.” He repeats. Kimani slides back onto the bed, keeping to her end, their hands the middle ground.

She looks away, smiling.


	4. In the Woods Somewhere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booty. Booty. Booty. Booty.  
> Rocking, everywhere.

“Oh shi- accident, accident, accident.” Iron Bull calls before Kimani can cry out. 

“You’re a fucking liar and you  _know_  it, Bull.” She growls, crossing shivering arms over her breasts.

This is what she gets for bringing Cassandra and Vivienne, who refuse to bathe with Bull or Cole as their pair.  _Not even for the Inquisitor, darling._ Vivienne had sighed. _I’m already washing in a **stream**._

“Nope, accident. Happy accident but wholly unintentional, Boss.” His back is turned, and it’s a moment before she realizes he’s naked for his own bath. Her eyes settle over the dip in his back, following the curve of a most wonderful ass. High and firm and just asking to be…Kimani stands a bit straighter, swallowing hard.

“You’re flashing me.”

There’s a rustle in the bushes across the river; Kimani looks up and sees Cole for a split second before he disappears into the leaves, skinny butt flashing as he flits away.  _This is my life now,_ she thinks.Bull sees him too, shakes his head.

“Can’t speak for the kid, but mooning you is also an accident. I’m on my way to bathe; there’s a river just beyond you, you see.”

“Hilarious.” His ass clenches in response and she slaps a hand to her eyes, hissing sharply at the immediate sting of soapy fingers. Instinctively she rubs and curses as the burn, naturally, spreads.  _You’ve got to be shitting me…_ But now she’s hopping from foot to foot, switching arms over her breasts in hopes that the other hand provides some relief. Dry as it may be, it doesn’t help.

“It’s not funny,” She spits when Bull starts to chuckle. Her face is red in both pain and the blush that comes with the knowledge that he’s seeing her naked and wet, even if only to see why she’d started whining like a hit dog.

“Um. I’ll get your bucket? “

“No! That water’s soapy. Fuck.” The sting cuts sharper despite her eyes watering, her rapid blinking. She yelps when Bull pulls her hand from her face; his amused grin is enough to make her want to disappear.

“To the river with you. Come on.” His hold is light as he leads her the short way down. “Don’t know why your weird ass is bathing out of the water anyway.”

“The current— _ahhh_ —washes the suds away before I’m ready! Oh praise be.” Her toes hit cold water and she falls to her knees, ignoring the bite of rocks to splash relief on her face.

“Might as well get in there, you’re covered in sad little bubbles.”

“Eyes. Down.”

“Okay, but to be transparent? Already saw the rump roast. Thing of utterbeauty, Boss. Thank your mother, next time you speak. Or your father, I guess. Thank  _somebody_  for me.”

Kimani scurries into the river at the quick press of his toe against her rear, biting back an undignified yelp, and the water does nothing to soothe the hot flush crept down her neck. She crouches chin-deep in the river, glaring at Bull who only smiles wide as he takes a small, taunting step towards her. Hissing, she holds both hands out of the water.

“I swear to every spirit in existence I will set you on fire, Bull. You’ll die, I will kill you, there’s not enough water in Thedas to save your hide.”

“If the last thing I see is that ass? Those thighs? Free my soul, Boss. Let that shit ascend.” He laughs, walking away along the riverbank so she can see every jolt his steps send to that delicious bottom.

_Kill me now, spirits. Why wait? Why give Corypheus the chance?_

Cole comes back, pale face a beacon in the bushes. She doesn’t know what he’s playing at, only that she sees  _his_ pale bottom twice more as he skitters about in the leaves, enjoying his game with no name. She considers letting the river wash her away, but downstream is…occupied.

Yet another flash of spirit-boy ass. Cole laughs.

_My life._


	5. sea songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimani and Bull have a bit of a power exchange. NSFW. Very sappy.

This was based on a [prompt on tumblr](http://belowbedlam.tumblr.com/post/129466032674/sea-songs). 

The prompt: **There is music in the lines of his body, a singing in his eyes.**

So I wrote some sappy smut.

* * *

 

Kimani pulls his hands to her hips, squeezing so he knows to hold tight. There is resistance when she pushes against his chest; this is not something he does, not as deliberately as she wishes him to. This is not the barmaids, “bouncing around on top.”

First of all, she means to glide. Bouncing comes later.

She looks up at him through damp locks of hair, smiling gently. He has to give it to her willingly, it’s the only way this will work. And with both dreadnought and darkspawn behind them, there is space for “it” to work.

The eye shines grayer today, more like the rough expanse of his skin. Kimani reaches up to stroke his face, rising high enough off of his lap to drag a soft groan through his parted lips that pitches louder as she draws him down for a kiss. She slides back down onto his lap, eyes fluttering shut as she tightens around him.

It is counterproductive to press against him, to rub her breasts along his torso, but he is always over-warm and she is too used to being enveloped in his heat. She must regain her head, but The Iron Bull has always made her feel lost at sea, struggling to surface.

 Now, she wants to be the wave that knocks him into the deep. She presses the fingers of both hands into his fleshy pectorals, cross-hatched with scars, and pushes gently. 

“ _Kadan_ ,” she whispers, twisting her hips over him slowly as he moans. “My love.”

He has to give it willingly. He has to trust that she will return it to him, after.

“Open your eyes,” He says, squeezing her hips just enough to hurt. “Look at me.”

Of course, she does. The look on his face is something new, something crawled up from his depths within the last fortnight, soft like morning dew and open as the ocean he’s always been. Roaring and tumultuous. This is the after, the calm post-hurricane. Bull smiles.

Then he begins the slow recline onto her bed, holding her gaze. Kimani leans forward to be lowered with him, chin on his chest. When he’s sunken into the mattress she kisses his stomach to make him laugh.

“ _Kadan_ ,” he rumbles, stretching himself on the bed, the thick planes of his body taut until he relaxes again. She can almost hear him relax this time, like a symphony of knots and locks come undone and sunken to the bottom of the sea. Good.

Kimani pulls away, rising on her knees, and he gasps, shutting his eye. His hands on her are no longer tight enough to hide their trembling. She covers them with her own.

“No no,” She coos. “Look at me.”

He’s singing to her, she’s convinced, when he finally obeys. She can hear his voice, a flowing chant in her head, can read the lines of music in his reverent gaze.

_Kadan, My love. Kadan._

The glide back down his length is punctuated by her moaning and she rises again. And falls again. Soon, she’s bracing herself against his chest, murmuring praise just above his lips. 

He won’t break the gaze, strained now as he comes close, just like he won’t move his hands from where she’s placed them. He has given that to her.

He has  _given_.


End file.
